


William Shakespeare's In My Cat

by Claire



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Asgardian wooing techniques, F/M, M/M, Never try to teach an alien to tango
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-02
Updated: 2006-01-02
Packaged: 2019-01-21 02:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12448131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: "I've seen hell and it's a three-foot naked alien trying to tango."





	William Shakespeare's In My Cat

John looked down at the plate in front of him, trying to work out if the Commissary staff had really served him the meatloaf he'd asked for, or if it was actually one of the science department's wild experiments gone horribly wrong. He half-heartedly poked at the brown mixture with his fork, debating if eating it would violate any of the biohazard guidelines. He knew he shouldn't have trusted Rodney when the other man seemed excited by the meatloaf. After all, anyone who actually _liked_ eating MREs was hardly reliable when it came to opinions about food.

John was just about to stab at one of the lumps he could see when a shadow fell over the plate, casting the gelatinous mess into blessed darkness. He looked up to find himself being scrutinized by unblinking eyes

"Colonel Sheppard, I would like to ask your advice about human mating rituals, if that is permissible?"

"Excuse me?" John said, almost sure he'd misheard. He glanced down at his plate, a worrying thought crossing his mind. Surely the commissary staff couldn't have managed to serve hallucinogenic meatloaf again, could they?

"I would like to ask you about human mating rituals," Hermiod repeated slowly and clearly, gracefully boosting himself up onto the chair opposite with disturbing athleticism.

John glanced towards the door, briefly wondering if Hermiod would be quick enough to stop him if he just ran. He calculated the distance and speed needed as he weighed up the choices: talk to a small naked alien about sex or face a Rodney who knew - because Rodney _always_ knew - that he'd fled at the mere thought. His shoulders slumping, John nodded in resignation. "Why?" he asked, unable to stop the question, even if part of him didn't really want to hear the answer.

"I wish to woo Lieutenant Novak," Hermiod replied.

Okay. That wasn't exactly what John had been expecting, but he could run with it. "And you thought I'd be the best person to ask, because...?"

Hermiod paused, dropping his voice slightly. "I have heard the Marines on board the Daedalus talking about how scientists are different to normal humans."

John grinned. "Well, they're right about that."

"You managed to woo Dr McKay--"

John coughed. He'd finally gotten fed up of the constant flirting, teasing and sexual tension, so he'd gone to Rodney's quarters one night and locked them both in. When they'd finally emerged two days later they were sore, sated and unable to stop grinning. They'd moved into bigger quarters the next day. Not exactly wooing, per se, but he'd let it slip this time.

"--and I wish you to help me do the same with Lieutenant Novak."

John smirked. "Well, I'd love to, but somehow I think that locking you in a room so you can screw like mad bunnies for two days may not work this time around." He paused, a sudden thought popping up. "And if we _did_ go that route, how would that work exactly? It's not like you have--" John waved his hand around in a last ditch attempt to bypass words entirely.

Hermiod looked at him for long moments. "That is not correct. Asgard, in fact, have a retractable--"

"Right!" John said quickly, holding up a finger to forestall any further talking. "The first rule is never finish that sentence when I'm in earshot. Ever."

"Does that mean you will agree to help me, Colonel Sheppard?"

Apparently it did.

*

Laura Cadman groaned as she dropped into the chair next to Hermiod.

"How'd it go?" John asked.

"My head is killing me thanks to the seven bottles of red wine we appear to have gone through, and I lost half of next month's supply of coffee, but the mission was a success, sir," Cadman smiled weakly, pressing fingers against her temples.

John grinned. Once he'd found out that Novak was a regular at the ladies' poker night whenever the Daedalus was in dock, he'd co-opted Cadman to help with their plan. "So, what did you find out?"

"Romance, sir," Cadman answered. "Lindsey is a total romantic at heart. She actually broke up with her last boyfriend because he was taking her for granted and not romancing her."

"Romance." John's heart sank. He had been half-hoping that Cadman was going to come back with 'two vodkas and she's anyone's', as it would have made his life much easier. But no, it had to be romance. Which meant flowers and chocolates and poetry. Did the Asgard even have poetry? Did the Asgard even have _romance_?

Cadman nodded. "I'm afraid so, sir."

"And when you say romance, you mean--?" Because Novak was still a scientist, and if she was anything like Rodney then romance might still be more of a 'look I brought you some sort of Ancient doohickey that lights up and possibly explodes when you least expect it' as opposed to a 'I brought you roses and Belgian chocolates and we shall cuddle together while watching TV adaptations of Jane Austen novels'. Not that John would ever admit to knowing who Jane Austen was. Even if he _did_ ever manage to persuade Rodney to dress up as Mr. Darcy.

"I mean the full works," Cadman expanded. "Flowers, chocolate, Richard Gere striding in and sweeping her off her feet in full naval uniform."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," replied John. Because the universe was never so kind as to actually make life easy.

John nodded at Cadman, already trying to figure out exactly where he could lay his hands on a naval dress uniform for someone who was only three foot high, and actually, if it was even possible for Hermiod to sweep Novak off her feet without some interesting use of the Asgard transporter technology. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You can go and get some sleep now."

Cadman smiled gratefully. "Thank you, sir." Looking at Hermiod, she nodded as she got to her feet, stopping when the Asgard stood and walked over to her.

Hermiod reached out, taking one of Cadman's hands in both of his. "I wish to thank you for all of your help, Lieutenant Cadman; it is very much appreciated."

"It was my pleasure," Cadman stammered out, blushing slightly as Hermiod let her hand go.

John stared at Hermiod as Cadman left, seeing the Asgard in a different light. Maybe this wouldn't be too difficult after all.

*

John stared at the flowers in Hermiod's hand.

"The Othala Moon Bloom is rare and highly prized among our people."

"It looks like a dead frog," John commented. "Maybe we should just stick with roses." The Athosians had found a flower growing on the mainland that seemed very similar to Earth roses. Granted, they were a more interesting shade of blue than roses usually came in, but any port in a storm, John figured.

"Very well," nodded Hermiod, looking at the flowers he was holding somewhat forlornly.

"Okay then." John smiled brightly as he plucked the flowers out of Hermiod's grasp and threw them into the corner. "We've dealt with flowers, we've dealt with what to say, and we've dealt with what _not_ to say. Between my preparation and the amount of alcohol that'll be flowing you should be all set to go for it." They'd decided that the first official Atlantis Christmas Party was The Place. John nodded. "Yep, there'll be drinking and dancing, it'll be perfect." He headed towards the door, grateful that his work was done.

"Ah, Colonel Sheppard?"

John stopped and turned around, looking at Hermiod as he stood in the middle of the room.

"May I ask one further thing? You mentioned dancing?"

"Yes?" John felt his stomach drop slightly.

"Will you teach it to me so that I can properly approach the Lieutenant?"

John closed his eyes, wondering how he got himself into these situations. One day, you were happy flying higher-ups in the Air Force to top-secret bases in the middle of Antarctica, and the next thing, you were in another galaxy and helping a small naked alien woo the scientist of his dreams. And it wasn't just telling them the right things to say. Oh no, this was nowhere near as easy as Cyrano had it. He'd have been _happy_ to compose letters -- emails -- on Hermiod's behalf. But no, this had to be _much_ more than just that. Sighing and silently thanking his great aunt Edna for teaching him to waltz that summer when he was thirteen, John opened his eyes.

"We'll need music," John said.

Hermiod nodded and a small beam of light deposited a miniature CD player next to them.

"That's... impressive," John admitted. Especially since he hadn't actually seen Hermiod use any sort of transmitter.

"Thank you, Colonel."

Taking a step forward, he looked down at Hermiod. Placing one of Hermiod's hands on his waist, he took the other in his. "I'll lead," he said, thoroughly grateful he knew that Zelenka's still had just cranked out a new batch of the good stuff - he had a feeling he was going to need it.

Two hours, a quickstep and an insane fear of stepping on Hermiod's feet later, John finally felt that the Asgard's 'slow, slow, quick, quick, slow' was as good as it was going to get. Stepping back, John glanced at his watch. If he hurried, he'd still be able to find Rodney in his lab and engage in the kind of illicit lab sex that would have Kavanagh complaining about sticky substances on the Ancient devices for weeks afterwards.

"Thank you, Colonel. Your help has been most appreciated."

John nodded, turning to leave.

"And now we will move on to that which you call 'disco'?"

John whimpered.

*

Rodney groaned slightly as John pulled back the covers and got into bed. "Hurry up," he muttered, voice sleepy, "you're letting the warm out."

"Sorry," John murmured, quickly covering them back over and pressing his body against Rodney's back.

"Cold!" Rodney complained, although he didn't move away. His hand moved back to rest on John's side. "You've been gone a while."

"Eternity," John replied, grimly. "I've seen hell and it's a three-foot naked alien trying to tango."

"That's nice, dear." Rodney patted John's thigh in a half-asleep daze.

There was silence for long moments before John spoke again.

"Rodney?"

"Hmm?" came the obviously tired reply.

"If I ever agree to help Hermiod out with anything again, just shoot me."

"Okay," Rodney replied, the word quickly trailing off into soft snores.

*

John grinned as he looked around the room. One of the large rooms on the south side had been converted to the home for the evening's festivities. Several of the Marines had gone all out in doing the decorations (and who would have thought Sergeant Bates had such a good eye for color coordination?), and Rodney and Zelenka had set up a sound system to pipe music through the entire hall. People were smiling and laughing and John felt the small knot of tension he'd had in his lower back for as long as he'd been on Atlantis start to relax slightly.

"What are you grinning at?" Rodney asked, walking up with a plate of what looked like shrimp puffs.

"Nothing," John answered. "Why would I be grinning at anything?"

Rodney's eyes narrowed, but John was saved from further questioning by the ripple of murmurs that ran through the hall. Looking over in the direction of the entrance, John watched as Hermiod, clad in a specially made tuxedo and clutching a dozen red roses, made his way through the crowd to where Novak was standing with a handful of others, including Cadman.

"Lieutenant Novak... Lindsey," Hermiod said, his voice carrying in the perfect acoustics of the hall, "I would be honored if you would grant me this dance." He held out the flowers.

Novak stared at him for a moment, an unsubtle nudge in the side from Cadman prompting her hand to reach out for the flowers. "I..." She glanced back at the others, Cadman nodding at her and smiling encouragingly. "I'd love to," she replied, handing the flowers to Cadman and taking Hermiod's hand, hiccupping with each step as he led her out to the dance floor.

*

John smirked as he and Rodney watched Hermiod lead Novak around the dance floor. "Just call me the Love Doctor," he said. "Hero to lonely scientists and naked aliens everywhere."

Rodney didn't answer; he was too busy staring at Hermiod. "I never realized a three foot tall person could rumba quite that well," he commented.

John took the empty plate Rodney was still holding and gave it to a passing airman. "Come on, Rodney," he said, taking his lover by the hand, "let's show them how it's done."

*

It was late when they finally left the party, heading down one of the uninhabited corridors to get to the transporter.

"Did you hear that?" Rodney asked, stopping suddenly.

"Hear what?"

"It sounded like it was coming from those quarters." Rodney nodded towards one of the sets of closed doors.

John shook his head. "All the quarters in this corridor are empt--" His words were cut off by a thump and a muffled groan.

They looked at each other as the groan was quickly followed by a high-pitched shriek.

"Oh my god!" The scream sounded suspiciously like Novak. "Where the hell have you been hiding _that_?!"

Rodney's eyes widened and John quickly grabbed his arm, steering him away from the apparently un-empty quarters.

"But John," Rodney all but whined, sounding like a five year old.

"Trust me," John replied, "you don't want to know." And, ignoring Rodney's pouting, he led them back to their quarters.


End file.
